Page 75 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“I confess, my approach was entirely wrong,” Matthew admitted, his face flushed with laughter and wine. “I had composed an elaborate speech about celestial bodies and promptly forgot every word the moment Miss Thornton smiled at me.”

The dinner party had exceeded Selina’s expectations. The small group had formed an easy camaraderie, formality dissolving into genuine warmth as the evening progressed.

“What did you say instead?” David asked, clearly enjoying the viscount’s discomfort.

“I believe my exact words were, ‘Stars. Lovely. You too.” Matthew groaned as the table erupted in laughter. “She must think me a complete fool.”

“Not at all,” Robert interjected kindly. “Ladies appreciate sincerity over practiced speeches. When I courted Georgiana, I once became so flustered I accidentally recited shipping manifests instead of poetry.”

“And I found it utterly charming,” Georgiana confirmed, patting her husband’s hand.

“The secret,” David said, leaning toward Matthew conspiratorially, “is confidence. Or at least the appearance of it. Stand straight. Speak clearly. Look her in the eye.”

“But not excessively,” Robert qualified. “There’s a fine line between meaningful eye contact and unsettling staring.”

“And for heaven’s sake, discuss something besides yourself,” David continued. “Ask questions about her interests. Listen to the answers.”

“Then repeat them back in your next conversation to show you were paying attention,” Robert added. “Ladies notice such things.”

“Truly?” Matthew looked between them with desperate hope. “Is it that simple?”

“Simple, no. Effective, yes.” David raised his glass. “To Lord Penderwick’s imminent success with the fair Miss Thornton.”

“Hear, hear,” the table chorused.

Selina smiled, heart full as she observed the scene. This was what she had imagined married life might be—good food, good company, her home filled with laughter and conversation. If only Rowan had been there to share it.

As if conjured by her thoughts, the dining room door opened. Simmons appeared, his face carefully expressionless.

“Your Grace, the Duke of Aldermere has returned and asks to join you.”

A brief, startled silence fell over the table. Selina was the first to recover. “Of course. Please show him in.”

Chairs scraped as the party stood. Rowan entered a moment later, no longer in travel clothes but dressed appropriately for the evening. His gaze moved around the room, sharp and assessing, pausing on Lord Penderwick with a flicker of displeasure before landing on Selina.

“Your Grace,” she said, summoning as much warmth as she could. “What a surprise. We weren’t expecting you so soon. Allow me to introduce our guests.”

Rowan kept staring at her, “If I might have a word, Duchess. In private.”

The bluntness of it sent a flush to her cheeks. “Of course,” she said, keeping her voice steady. Turning to her guests, she added, “Please continue with dessert. We’ll return shortly.”

She led him from the dining room and into his study, the tension between them stretching taut.

Once the door closed behind them, she turned to face him.

“When did you return?” she asked.

“Just now.” Anger simmered beneath his controlled tone. “Imagine my surprise when Simmons informed me you were hosting a dinner party. With your former suitor among the guests.”

“Lord Penderwick is a friend,” Selina replied, maintaining her composure. “Nothing more.”

“He’s a man who nearly married you.”

Heat rose to Selina’s face. “Am I not mistress of this household? Is it not my place to entertain guests when my husband is perpetually absent on mysterious business?”

“That’s not the point,” Rowan growled, stepping closer. “The point is you invited him, specifically.”

“Yes, because he needed guidance in courting Miss Thornton.” Selina didn’t back away, matching his intensity. “If you’d bothered to observe for five minutes instead of glowering, you might have noticed Lord Bingham and the Duke of Emberford offering him advice. He’s here as a friend, nothing more.”

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